


A Matter of Destiny

by dilapidatedream



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilapidatedream/pseuds/dilapidatedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warm-hearted idealist that he was, Ike liked to think that some of the meetings in his life were a matter of destiny. His meeting and adopting his canine best friend, Lacey, was one of those instances. Meeting the older student with the intensely striking eyes? Maybe that was fated, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Star-Struck

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by SSBB.Swords' "Cycles" (archived on FF.net). Lacey is lifted straight off the pages of her story with her permission.

Ike genuinely and wholly loved animals. 

His love of all creatures furry and feathered began when he was naught but a youth in elementary school. One day during mid-morning recess in October of his third grade school year, he happened upon a stranded baby bird beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the school grounds. It seemed to have fallen straight out of the tree and was lying in a rumpled, downy pile nearly directly below its nest on one of the highest boughs. Whether it was attempting to leave the nest for the first time or simply fell out by accident, it looked terribly hurt and lost, and Ike was overcome with both sadness and pity for the hatchling. Ever so carefully, he cupped the small bird in his equally small hands, and all but ran back to his classroom to tell his teacher because the baby bird needed _help_ and it was _hurt_ and he couldn’t possibly have left it there.

From that moment onwards, Ike knew that he loved animals. He fed every stray cat he met and knelt down to pet every single dog on the sidewalk he chanced upon. When he was in the fourth grade, his parents bought him a guinea pig that he christened Squeaky and cared for with all his nine-year-old might. He not only played with Squeaky, but he learned to clean his cage and refill his food and water regularly. He didn’t do the chores because his parents told him to, but because he loved Squeaky and wanted him to be healthy and happy.

It was no surprise to anyone that ever knew him that Ike decided to major in pre-veterinary studies when he entered university. He had volunteered part-time at the local animal shelter since his sophomore year in high school and knew, with unwavering certainty, that he wanted to dedicate his life to caring for animals. Sure, he knew there would be intense competition for entrance to one of the few veterinary schools in the nation, but it was a lifelong passion that he was willing to fight to see to fruition.

Currently, Ike was in the middle of his freshman year of university. He had moved away from home in his pursuit of a doctor of veterinary medicine degree, as there was no university offering pre-vet studies anywhere near where he grew up. But living far away from home took a toll on him emotionally and he missed interacting with animals on a nearly daily basis, so he sought out the nearest local animal shelter and resumed volunteer work upon his third day after moving to the city. By the second month, he had befriended a personable golden retriever, and couldn’t bear the idea that someone else would adopt her—or worse, that she would be euthanized if she wasn’t claimed when her time at the shelter had run out. So after confirming that his two roommates didn’t mind and that, yes, his apartment complex allowed dogs as long as he paid a monthly pet-fee, he half-emptied his meager savings to adopt Lacey and brought her home that same day.

Lacey was a rescue dog. Her previous owners had perished in a tragic house fire, but she had managed to survive the flames and was collapsed and barely breathing by their trapped, crushed bodies. She was a seven-month-old puppy and her collar was still fastened firmly around her throat, the pink leather stained by ash and the heart-shaped pendant engraved with ”Lacey” in cursive letters. After her emergency treatment at the animal hospital for lung damage and minor burns, she was transferred to the animal shelter the same week Ike started volunteering. Maybe it was simply luck and coincidence, but Ike liked to think that he was destined to meet Lacey.

Ike also considered another meeting four months down the line as a matter of destiny (warm-hearted idealist that he was). On January 13th at 3:45 p.m., Marth strolled through the door of the shelter up to the counter he sat at and right past it into his own star-struck dreams.

\-----

“Hi, are you accepting new volunteers right now?”

The young man (or adolescent?) with the impeccably styled hair and large, piercing eyes  stood at the counter in front of Ike. He was dressed very similarly to Ike himself—pair of jeans, boots, winter coat zipped up fully and muffling his words against the collar sneaking over the lower half of his face. In all respects, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about him; just another student weathering the harsh January snow. Yet, Ike was dumbstruck nonetheless, and he suddenly knew in that instant how Lacey felt when she heard the kibble being poured on the other side of the apartment and came scampering into the kitchen at the furry speed of light. _This_ , whatever it was¸ was something that he wanted and never even knew he wanted all along until it appeared right in front of him.

Ike only realized he had never answered the question when the young man started giving him a puzzled look, and he let out a small exclamation before muttering yes, yes, we always need more volunteers, let me find the application, it’s somewhere here, I swear… seriously man, did the desk eat it or something?

“Sorry,” he finally managed while laughing, and the young man was laughing too because, honestly, Ike was being ridiculous. He finally unearthed the application from the bottom right drawer of the desk where it had always been, if only his brain had cooperated in remembering that little fact. “I’m usually not _this_ big of an idiot. Must be brain freeze, right?” He shot a crooked grin at the other as he handed over the two-page stapled packet and a pen.

The young man smiled back as he accepted the items but not before quipping, “Maybe they should crank up the heater in here, then.”

Later that night, as Lacey curled up against his side as he studied for his biology midterm, he would tell her that he’d never been happier to be teased as he was that day.

\-----

His name was Marth, and Ike was sure that was the nicest sounding name he had ever heard. Marth, like hearth, and Ike thought that it was completely appropriate because being near Marth filled him with a steady warmth, as if he were basking in front of a merry fire to banish the below-freezing outside temperatures.

After the second day they volunteered together, Ike learned that Marth was also a student at his university, although he was his senior by two years and enrolled within the college of fine arts. Marth neither looked his age nor like his apparently stereotypical and probably bigoted idea of what an artist is supposed to look like. He didn’t wear hipster nor boho-chic clothes, didn’t have long and/or unkempt hair, and his clothing wasn’t constantly covered in paint and various other art supplies. On the contrary, his hair was unnaturally perfect every single time Ike saw him. Even when there was a blizzard outside and Marth came stumbling into the shelter with a beanie on, the moment he pulled it off, all he had to do was smooth a hand over the top once and it was flawless again. Somehow, Marth’s hair seemed to exist outside of the effect of entropy. If only Ike were so lucky; his own hair seemed to epitomize the second law of thermodynamics.

Marth’s medium of choice was ceramics. Ike never much had any prior interest in pottery (or art in general), but after he learned that Marth was truly passionate about stoneware and planned to make that his career, he found himself browsing the internet for hours on end regarding clay, kilns, firing techniques, and glazes. He never realized making bowls was such a complicated procedure. But after weeks of studying the history of ceramics and its techniques, Ike found that he had developed a taste for it. Whenever he tried to explain to Lacey that the interest was genuine and not because he wanted to impress the older student, she seemed to give him a very pointed look before flopping her head down on his thigh.

Obviously, the girl was not convinced.

\-----

Ike had decided by March that Thursday was absolutely his favorite day of the week.

After the start of the spring semester, their volunteering schedules only matched up once a week on Thursday afternoons because their class schedules were vastly different. After he had gotten used to seeing Marth on a thrice-weekly basis, he suddenly found himself missing the other man a great deal. A shift at the shelter just didn’t seem complete without Marth there to make some smart ass comment about his blithe idealism and unwarranted faith in humanity.

Even though they had exchanged emails, Ike had yet to gather the courage to actually _write_ to the other boy outside of the mandatory introductory email to confirm they had each gotten the addresses correct. He just couldn’t figure out a way to justify emailing Marth when he saw him once a week.

“Does that make me come off as needy, Lacey?” he mused out loud to his companion while staring oh so intently at the blank composition screen of his email client. Lacey gave him a confused whine, which made perfect sense considering he had asked the question out of nowhere and without a bit of context. “Emailing him, even though I see him once a week,” he added afterwards for clarification.

Lacey just gave him a blank look that he interpreted as canine exasperation.

“Alright, girl,” Ike muttered with a sigh. “Even _you_ think I’m crazy now. I mean, it’s just a friendly email… right? Why am I even worrying so much?”

A snide part of his brain replied that he worried because he was crushing on Marth like a sixth grade schoolgirl. He gave that part of his brain a swift boot right back to its snarky little corner. He was _not_ acting like a middle school girl. You would think that his brain would at least have the dignity to compare him to boy at the very least.

Ike sighed again before reaching down to scratch Lacey absently behind the ears. He had decided on coffee. Meeting for coffee was a totally normal thing that two people who work together might do in their spare time. It wasn’t a date, so he needn’t fear rejection. If Marth turned him down, it could very well just mean that was he didn’t like coffee.

Even after convincing himself of the extremely benign nature of the invitation, it still took Ike over an hour to send the email.

\-----

_Hey Ike,_

_Coffee sounds great. Want to meet up at the coffee shop by Pauling Hall? I’m free all day Saturday or next Tuesday at 4pm. Let me know what your schedule’s like._

_Marth_

Ike reread the email for the seventh time, wondering how Marth managed to sound so normal when he felt like a veritable nutcase.'

 

**-tbc-**


	2. Coffee Is a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike and Marth have lots of coffee meetings that are totally not dates.

Despite inferring that he liked coffee in his email, Marth ordered tea. He nursed his large ceramic mug of Darjeeling between bites of a cranberry apple scone, meticulously breaking small pieces off without making any mess. All the crumbs managed to stay perfectly contained on the plate. If Ike were the one eating that scone, there’d be a blanket of crumbs all over the table—including Marth’s side.

Ike took a careful sip of his double mocha (never such a thing as too much chocolate) and regretted immensely that he didn’t prepare a list of conversation topics prior to this meeting. They would have helped him a great deal, considering he was staring intently at Marth’s perfectly broken scone while furiously imploring his brain to work. Oh god, _what was he supposed to say?_

Thankfully, Marth saved the situation by speaking to him first.

“So why did you decide to become a vet?”

Ike thanked whatever powers may be that this was a topic he was comfortable with and had much to speak about. “I love animals,” he answered sincerely, a large grin spreading across his face as he thought of the shelter and all the animals they help.

Marth chuckled quietly under his breath as he popped another piece of scone into his mouth, brushing his fingertips together to shake off any lingering crumbs onto the plate. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious, you know. Your face practically shines when we have grooming duty.”

Ike laughed openly while running a hand through his already mussed hair. He felt a small flush hit his face; not because he was embarrassed, but because of the way Marth’s intense eyes were teasing him from across the table. Alright, he was definitely smitten. No wonder he was so nervous to send the email. His brain had already jumped to conclusions that this was a _date_ , and not just a friendly coffee break amongst two coworkers—which it was, most definitely. It _had_ to be. Marth was not giving him the same googly eyes he imagined he was sending at the older student.

_Don’t get your hopes up too much, Ike._

“No, I really love animals. I want to help them in any way I can, especially if they’re hurt. I want animals to have the best lives they possibly can, and if my care and treatment helps give them the fullest life they deserve, then I can go to sleep happy knowing that I had made a difference.”

The words Ike spoke were true, deep down at the very core of his being. He couldn’t imagine being _anything_ else in his life, ever since he was a child. “I guess it all started when I found a baby swallow in third grade. It had fallen out of its nest and all I wanted to do was save it.”

Marth was staring at him so intently after his answer that he was almost taken aback when he looked at the other man. He blinked rather owlishly before laughing and taking another sip of his sweet, caffeinated concoction. “Like you always say, I’m a hopeless idealist, right?”

Instead of teasing him some more, Marth simply stated, “You’re a very kind person, Ike.”

“Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.”

Ike felt his stomach go into knots when Marth smirked back. “Oh, you just haven’t got to know me well enough, then.”

A bold (or perhaps reckless) part of him forced the next words out of his mouth. “Guess we’ll just have to keep getting coffee until I do.”

\-----

Saturday coffee was now part of his weekly routine, just as much as brushing his teeth obsessively before volunteering on Thursdays because he was needlessly worried about what Marth might think of his breath.

By their fourth coffee house meeting (no, it was _not_ a date), Ike had come to the conclusion that Marth definitely was not a coffee person. Every time, the older student ordered some herbal tea, straight with no cream or sugar, which was mildly baffling to Ike who found drinks positively unpalatable unless sweetened to the point of inducing cavities in someone with less dental strength than he. Amazingly enough, he’d never once had a cavity despite his monstrous sweet tooth. He was sure he was due many a root canal in the future once his enamel realized what it was being subjected to.

Marth, obviously the common sense in their duo (not _romantic_ duo, mind you, just a pair of coworkers, after all), had suggested their coffee breaks be used for studying. Ike wholly approved of this because it gave him a valid excuse from having to make awkward conversation with the very intense older boy, while simultaneously extending the length of their hang outs. After all, you need hours at a time to study; hours that he used to surreptitiously stare at Marth’s slender fingers as he dragged the highlighter across his print outs, and admire the way his ever-perfect hair fell over his eyebrows when he hunched over his binder. Needless to say, Ike did not get much studying done during these hours—he was getting very good at looking busy, on the plus side.

Ike was pondering whether there was a tea parlor somewhere near the university and willfully ignoring his biochemistry homework when Marth spoke.

“Want to grab lunch next weekend instead of coffee?”

The question startled Ike and he looked up from his textbook to blink dumbfounded at the boy sitting across the table. When Marth looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, he realized he hadn’t said anything in reply.

“You don’t like coffee, do you?” he asked instead, the words coming out of his mouth before he could fully comprehend their meaning. The question popped out of his lips because he had been thinking about the other’s implied dislike of the coffee bean rather than actually replying to the very simple suggestion. It was just lunch. Coworkers eat lunch together all the time! Why, then, did Ike’s palms break out in a sudden sweat and his heart try to leap up and out of his throat?

_Calm down, Ike._

The corner of Marth’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as he gestured towards the empty teacup with his uncapped highlighter. “No, Ike, I just buy tea because I have a vendetta against coffee producers.”

Ike could feel the heat creep up his cheeks and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself over his reaction, shaking his head before running a hand haphazardly through his already mussed hair. “Alright, alright. Point taken.”

Marth just looked at him for a good two seconds before chuckling himself, an incredulous expression crinkling his features. “Hello, Earth to Ike. Lunch?”

“Oh!” If Ike felt any more embarrassed, he was sure he would simply wither up from the shame. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t know where my brain’s gone.”

“Apparently to lunch itself,” Marth quipped before he could finish.

The snarky comment made Ike laugh despite his overwhelming embarrassment. He could definitely do this; it was just Marth, his funny, witty, charismatic friend with the startlingly intense eyes. Nothing at all to be nervous about here.

“Well, it does have a tendency to go on breaks when it’s not supposed to—like during tests. Whoo!” Ike let out an exaggerated breath as he made a big show of swiping his hand across his neck, joking his way through the awkward situation, as if humor could salve his wounded ego and make Marth forget just how harebrained he could get.

“But yeah, we could totally do lunch instead. I mean, not that I _want_ to tear you away from your vendetta or anything like that,” he added quietly at the end in a conspiratory tone.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Marth breathed as he leaned forwards, mimicking Ike’s furtive tone and that small smirk once again tugging up the left corner of his mouth, “I always finish what I start.”

For some reason, those words (or maybe it was the tone?) had a very alarming and unnecessary effect on Ike’s body, and he was distinctly glad for the binder sprawled across his lap.

_Okay, **really** calm down now, Ike._

While Ike was having a mental battle between his body and his dignity, Marth leaned back into his chair and resumed reading the document in his lap in preparation for his art history exam as if nothing had happened—and really, maybe nothing did at all.

“I’m not sure which day I’ll be free next weekend. I’ll text you when I know?”

It took all of Ike’s power to swallow down the lump in his throat and say the following two syllables. “Okay.”

 

**-tbc-**


	3. A Furry Third Wheel

By 11:17 a.m. on Sunday, Ike had managed to put on nothing besides a towel slung around his hips post-shower.

Ike had paced around his bedroom so much that he was certain he was wearing a visible track into the cheap carpeting. He had taken to the pacing when he realized that he was standing in front of his wardrobe in complete anxiety while deliberating what to wear out to a friendly lunch with Marth. The sudden realization that he was unduly freaking out about his outfit caused a frown to form on his face, and to rid himself of the ridiculous notion that he needed to look _attractive_ to go eat with his coworker (this was a matter of eating, nothing more), he took to walking briskly back and forth in the narrow space between his bed and his closet.

Lacey was sitting in the corner and staring at him pacing with her head cocked to the side, left ear up and tail curved around her body. Ike imagined she was confused. Or possibly pitying him. The more he paced, he more he was certain her staring indicated the latter.

“Gah!” he groaned in exasperation before plopping down on his bed, staring into the open armoire. “It’s just lunch, Ike,” he muttered to himself before walking over to the offending wooden structure. He willed himself to grab the most convenient articles of clothing within his reach and threw them on hastily before he could second guess his decision.

Lacey barked at him before getting up from her haunches, smiling in that special way that only golden retrievers can. He was hoping that was a bark of approval. Shaking his head at his unusual insecurity, he walked to her and bent down to scratch her lovingly behind the ears. However, when he tried to move past her to the door, he found himself behind a furry blockade as she stood with her flank pressed against the door, all the while staring expectantly at him. When he didn’t respond, she started whining in a way that screamed _Take me on a walk, oh pretty please, please, please!_

Ike furrowed his brows as he shook his head down at his best friend. “I already took you on a walk this morning!”

When that did nothing to sway Lacey from her firm position in front of the door, he pulled himself into his most Alpha Male position possible and ordered her to move. Apparently, he was now the Beta Male in this relationship, considering Lacey had decided that today, when he was possibly late to meeting Marth for a totally platonic lunch, was the day she would turn rebellious.

“Lacey!” he groaned as he tried to forcibly move 65 pounds of wagging resistance to no avail. “I gotta go!”

As if the word “go” was the secret password, Lacey suddenly sprung towards him and planted her forelegs on his jeans while barking excitedly. Then she promptly started bounding in circles around his legs, looking as if she just got invited along. He could almost hear the mantra of _Can I come?_ on repeat in his head as he nearly tripped over her body.

“I’m going to be late!” Ike griped as he tried to step around her, finally managing to open the door and force himself through before she could block his escape once more. Unfortunately, she was much faster than him and raced out to the front door of the apartment ahead of him, plopping herself down expectantly by her leash hanging off the edge of the shoe rack. Her tail was wagging so furiously, it managed to knock down one of his roommate’s sneakers.

With a sigh, Ike replaced the toppled shoe before stepping into his own sneakers and crouching down to lace them up. Staring face to face with his overexcited dog, he cupped her head with both of his hands before admitting defeat. “You’re never going to let me leave without you, huh?”

Lacey replied with a far too happy bark. Begrudgingly accepting his demotion to Beta rank, Ike grabbed the leash and began hooking it onto her collar.

“You better hope Marth doesn’t mind a third wheel, Lacey.”

\-----

When Ike finally arrived at the small café, it was 12:07 and he was slightly late thanks to Lacey’s stubborn insistence. Getting out of his car, he walked around to the passenger’s side to let Lacey out. Without even waiting for him to fully open the door, she was already leaping off the seat, nudging her way forcibly out of the crack and onto the asphalt in a furry little whirlwind. She proceeded to run in a circle around him, effectively winding her leash around his legs in the process.

“Come on, Lacey,” Ike grumbled as he bent down to untangle the leash. “Don’t make me leave you in the car,” he threatened as he engaged in a staring contest with his happy golden retriever.

Lacey was apparently unnerved by the threat because she quickly bounded towards the entrance to the restaurant. Ike stumbled as he followed her, yanking futilely on her leash. Oh boy. He had a sinking feeling that Lacey would assault Marth on sight at this rate and he’d be powerless to stop her.

Marth was always prompt to their coffee house study sessions, which made him worry that the older student had been waiting for him and their unplanned additional lunch guest. When Ike reached the entrance, he squinted slightly as he peered through the glass, looking for Marth’s telltale perfect hair while simultaneously trying to restrain Lacey from leaping excitedly through the front door. But due to the angles inside the restaurant, Ike couldn’t see into the back of the space and all he saw were unfamiliar diners.

Looking around the front of the building, he was glad to see that they had outdoor seating. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind a dog on the premises outside. At that thought, he gave Lacey a disapproving glance, only to be met with some excited panting.

“Not the least bit sorry are you, huh, girl?” He shook his head as he led Lacey to a shaded table. As if on cue, she gave a happy little bark.

Sitting down and looping Lacey’s leash around his chair, he contemplated texting Marth to let him know he’d arrived. And probably to apologize for being late. But just as he managed to fish his cell phone out of his front pocket, the door of the restaurant swung open and the other boy glided out.

His own thought startled him. _Ike, people don’t_ glide _, okay._ And then he stupidly wished he had picked a nicer outfit because Marth looked ridiculously handsome. Then _that_ thought caused him to panic slightly, most likely twisting up his face into a strange grimace; but thankfully Marth was tactful and choose to ignore his weird expression in favor of sitting down in the empty chair across from him.

“Hi, Ike,” Marth greeted simply with a small smile.

“Hi,” he parroted back with his own nervous smile. At that exact moment, Lacey decided to press her face against the other’s pant leg and sniff his ankle curiously. Remembering that he’d meant to explain why he was late, Ike gave a sheepish smile as he tugged on her leash, trying to pull her away from the other’s body. “Sorry I’m late. My dog was blockading my door and refusing to let me leave without her.” The statement was followed by a long-suffering sigh.

Marth leaned forward and reached down to pet Lacey on the top of her head, which was now making its way up to his knee. “So this must be the famous Lacey.”

“The one and only,” Ike replied, a small smile flitting across his lips despite his current irritation with his furry companion. “Apparently, she really wanted to meet you.” He paused momentarily before narrowing his eyes suspiciously and glancing down at his dog, who was quite busy nosing her way up Marth’s leg. “Either that, or she magically knew there was going to be food and wanted in on the action.”

Marth continued to pet Lacey, moving to scratch behind her ears to some tail-wagging appreciation. It was promptly this moment that Lacey decided to shove her nose directly into Marth’s crotch, giving it a long sniff for good measure. The other’s eyebrow shot up in amusement. “She’s very friendly,” he concluded politely, the smirk that made Ike _feel things_ playing across his lips again. Ike wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground with shame.

“Right, sorry,” Ike mumbled. “She does that to everyone new she meets.” The ground wasn’t cooperating with him because he still found his metal chair firmly planted upon the concrete. Marth’s smirk really shouldn’t affect him the way it did. He was regressing to a middle school girl all over again, so help him. It was getting harder and harder to remain level-headed around the older boy, with his quips and _eyes_ and Dog Whisperer charm.

“Well, I’m disappointed,” Marth started with mock hurt as he looked down at Lacey, who had apparently finished her sniffing ritual and was staring cheerily up at him. “And here I thought I was special.”

Lacey decided to address that statement herself because she promptly moved around the chair and sat down at Marth’s right side, tail thumping a rhythmic doggy seal of approval against the ground. Both Ike and Marth stared down at her in shock and amusement respectively.

While Marth continued to peacefully pet Lacey, Ike was currently experiencing something akin to a revelation. Watching the older student interacting with his dog, from the look of content on his face to Lacey’s obvious pleasure, the connection between the two was undeniable. And all he could think was: _My dog adores him._ That idea made him strangely and ridiculously happy. Because if Lacey, who was his benchmark for judging good character, accepted Marth—then maybe it was meant to be.

Because Ike finally realized that _he_ adored Marth too—that the other wasn’t (and probably never was) _just_ a coworker, and that he’d secretly been thinking of all their meetings up until this point as dates. Because he had fallen for the older boy and his captivating eyes since the moment he walked into the shelter, the winter storm chasing him in. Because this was the first boy he had ever liked, even though he didn’t consider himself gay. But watching Lacey choose Marth’s side almost immediately, this idea no longer seemed to freak him out.

It was just Marth, after all. The only person to ever make him feel positively flustered over absolutely nothing at all.

 _You are special_.

When Marth turned his attention back to him, a curious look on his face, Ike realized that he had accidentally verbalized his inner thoughts once again. Giving the other an embarrassed look, all he could think was to nod his head in affirmation of the sentence. Because Marth really _was_ special.

“I think she likes you better than me,” Ike stated lamely.

The server chose that exact moment to appear with their menus, and Ike was never so glad to place a drink order as he was that very moment, staring pointedly at the menu and ignoring the piercing stare coming from across the table.

 

 **-tbc-**


End file.
